Mrs Schunard
by PandaFire McMango
Summary: Angel's in the hospital, and only his spouse and family can visit. What will his friends do to join him? Hee hee. rated T for a little langauge, but it ishappy. yay! oneshot, i R&R if you want


"Shit, can't this thing move any faster?" Maureen yelled, pacing on the floor of the subway train. Mimi, huddled on a seat, leaned against Roger who looked pale. Joanne stared angrily at a pole, and Mark bit his fingernails. People stared at them, edging away.

The call from Collins had come scarcely ten minutes ago: Angel was at the hospital. The words had twisted Mark's mind and heart when he heard them, and he had frantically called them to Roger and Mimi, who were sitting on the couch together, kissing, and Maureen and Joanne, who were arguing vehemently about nothing in particular. They had dashed out together; leaving the Stoli, beer, cake, presents, and decorations that had been waiting for Angel's birthday. The surprise party was forgotten in the rush of fear and terror that came with the ten-second-phone call.

The doors opened with a squirt of air, and the five leapt out like gymnasts. Barely clinging together as a group, they raced towards the hospital, actually knocking someone down in their haste to not be too late. It was strange: something in them called for them to slow, yet blind fear made them rush. No one talked. Somehow, words seemed to slow them.

The swinging door banged as Joanne, in the lead, burst through. The others followed close behind. They slowed down and approached the reception desk, each one of their hearts hammering.

"Where's Angel?" demanded Maureen, glaring at the receptionist, who jumped and pushed her chair a little farther back before clarifying, "Miss, do you mean Mr. Schunard?"

"Yeah, is she—he okay?" Mimi asked, slipping. The woman looked at her strangely, then checked her computer. Mark stared at his feet, and Roger rested his head on Mimi's. Maureen grasped Joanne's arm so hard it hurt. After an eternity, the receptionist spoke.

"Mr. Schunard was in critical for a little while, but he's been moved to another single room. Our staff has decided to remove him from intensive care for the time being." Mimi sighed with relief, and Mark shuddered. Maureen still squeezed Joanne's arm, though.

"Where is he?" Joanne asked, almost yelling. The others glanced at her. She rarely got so upset over something other than Maureen. But when it came to Angel, no one could _not_ get worked up.

"I'm sorry, but Mr. Schunard can only be visited by his spouse or family. Are you either?" asked the receptionist, staring at them suspiciously. A full second passed as they all stood, not knowing what to do. Then, Joanne straightened her back and said firmly, "I'm Mr. Schunard's wife."

The receptionist, not noticing the looks on the other four's faces, nodded and asked, "And who are they?"

"His sister and his cousins." Mimi mouthed profanities silently, and Roger looked like he had swallowed a goldfish. Maureen looked like she was trying not to laugh, and Mark nodded solemnly.

"And the man who arrived with Mr. Schunard?"

"…His father. What room number is he, please?" Joanne was trying not to slip, but her face looked strained. The others were wondering if she was a genius or insane. Collins was about two years older than Angel. They prayed the woman hadn't actually taken a good look at him.

"213, but miss, I need to send a nurse with you, to check on Mr. Schunard." The receptionist beckoned over a fat blond woman, whom she whispered to. They all caught the words, "if he knows them." The nurse nodded and marched down the hall, followed by the five Bohemians. Joanne was shaking very slightly, and Maureen moved her grip from her to her hand.

The nurse stopped at room 213 and, making a _shhhh_ sound, opened the door quietly. They crowded forward, pushing her backwards.

The room was small but flooded with light from the open windows. Collins sat by the head of the bed, talking quietly to the smaller figure that lay on the hard, uncomfortable bed. It was Angel, yet it wasn't Angel. She—no, he wasn't wearing any of the clothes he was so proud of, and something, some pluck and sparkle that had flickered around him had vanished. One hand held Collins's tightly, proving that he still had some strength left.

Feeling the nurse's small eyes on her, Joanne bustled forward and leaned down, kissing Angel's forehead. "Hey honey-bear. You feeling okay?" she asked, trying to keep the waver from her voice. Angel and Collins stared at her. Mimi, catching on, leaned down and kissed Angel's cheek. "How's it going, bro?" Mark and Roger winced at the sound of her words. Collins's eyes had grown to the size of his fists, and Joanne stepped into shut him up in case he said something.

"Miss, if you don't mind, we would like a few moments alone with Mr. Schunard." The nurse squinted and said in a husky voice, "This woman your wife?"

Now Angel and Collins were really confused. Roger stepped on Mark's toe as Mark let out a snort of laughter, which turned into a yelp of pain. No one noticed him.

"Um…" Angel, glancing at Mimi, saw that she gave a tiny nod. "Yeah, she is. C'mere, honey." Joanne, who looked like she was in pain, inched closer to Angel who took her hand and smiled at the nurse. Collins was looking at everyone else, his expression clearly saying, "What the hell is going on?"

Reluctantly, the nurse exited, banging the door closed. They waited until her footsteps had disappeared down the hall. Then Maureen, Mark, Roger, and Mimi burst into laughter. Joanne stood up and flopped into a hospital chair, her face in her hands, rocking back and forth. Mimi slumped forward on Angel's knees, weak with laughter. Mark and Roger had to lean against each other to keep from falling, and Maureen pounded the side of the door. Poor Angel and Collins had to wait a full two minutes before anyone could speak.

"Someone better tell me when I married Joanne, or I'm gonna start kicking ass here," Angel finally demanded, sitting up, not without effort. Mimi, panting with laughter, managed to say, "Wouldn't let…us in…Joanne…said…oh god…" and Mimi lapsed into another fit of laughter. Roger choked out the story, not without help from Mark and Maureen. Joanne, her face red, was still rocking back and forth, breathless with laughter.

"Angel, is there something you're not telling me?" Collins teased, and was rewarded with a pinch. "Ow!"

"I swear, the next time you people start trying to marry me off to some lawyer, I will put on my stilettos and not care how bad I hurt you, I swear to God," Angel said, causing them all to laugh harder. Mark, clutching his side, suddenly caught sight of Angel's IV machine, and the tube leading down to his bruised wrist. All of a sudden, it didn't seem so funny anymore. Yet as he looked around at his friends, laughing and joking, he realized that they really did love each other. They loved each other enough to forget this horrible illness, this death warrant, long enough to laugh. That is the true measure of love.


End file.
